3 Ring Circus
by Icabu
Summary: Olympic SWAT wins the Competition Cup and also wins some unwanted attention. *** Again, grateful for the beta read - any remaining issues are mine ***
1. Chapter 1

**Saturday, September 17, 1977 : 2154**

Lieutenant Dan 'Hondo' Harrelson held up the Competition Cup and whistled sharply to quiet the group.

"Men," Harrelson said, "I'm very proud of your performances out there today." He handed the Cup to Officer Jim Street.

"That was a new record in the obstacle course, wasn't it?" Harrelson asked.

Jim put down his beer mug and took the Cup, admiring the latest etching that read: "Olympic Division – 1977". It followed two Sunset Division wins.

"Yes, sir – by one-point-two seconds," Jim answered his commander.

"And, Luca," Harrelson addressed Officer Dominic Luca. "Great win in the repelling competition."

Jim handed the Cup to Dom.

"Thanks, Lieutenant. I just missed my record from last year, though." Dom held the Cup high, smiling as brightly as the shiny trophy.

"The big surprise was TJ winning the buddy-carry event," Harrelson said, "as well as the distance shooting."

Dom handed the Cup over to teammate Officer TJ McCabe.

TJ lifted the Cup and his beer, toasting his teammates. "Drawing Dom to carry helped a lot."

"Who was that behemoth that you had to carry, Jim?" asked Sergeant Deacon 'Deke' Kay.

Laughing, Jim said, "That was Wee Willy from Sunset. Six-eight and three-twenty-five – at least that's what he admits to. Felt more like three-eighty."

"But third place got us an extra point," Dom said.

"How about you and Deke, Lieutenant?" TJ said.

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "Figuring out we could run the Capture The Flag course backwards – get the flag first, then run the course – put us in the lead for good."

"I bet they're rewriting the rules on that event right now," Deke said.

Harrelson smiled. "But it worked." He held his beer out and the group toasted again.

"Another round," Harrelson told the bartender. He placed the Cup on the bar top and it was placed in a reverent place behind the bar. Every cop that came into After Hours would see it and know what it stood for. The annual SWAT competition was tough and a Division win was definitely boasting material.

"Gentlemen," Harrelson announced. "You'll want to watch the end of the late local news tonight. They're doing a bit on the Competition Cup."

"Hot damn!" Dom said. "It's about time we get some good press. Perfect timing since we won."

"I saw the cameras," TJ said. "But I figured we'd get about six seconds or be bumped by a weather alert or something."

"Not this time," Deke said. "I heard it's a full ten minute feature piece."

"Ten minutes," said Dom. "We're stars!"

"You'll have to get a bigger little black book now," Jim teased Dom.

"I'll have to get an assistant to screen my calls," said Dom, staring into his perceived future. "She'll sort the callers by age, hair color …"

"Earth to Luca," Harrelson said. "It's on after the late local news. Probably only grannies will be watching."

The others laughed, Dom frowned.

###

Rachel Bisbane watched the piece on the SWAT Competition Cup after the late local news. Watched intently and liked what she saw. There were several very fine specimens of the species. She must have them. She wanted to see them in action, study them.

The next morning, she sat with her coffee and the newspaper. In the group photo with the winning team holding the trophy, she circled three faces. In the accompanying photos, she circled three more times.

She addressed her Security Services Chief. "Edward, I must have these specimens. Immediately." She pushed the paper to him.

Edward Townsend studied the picture, read the accompanying article. He frowned. "These are the best of the best, ma'am."

"I know that. That's why I want them. I really must have them." She sat back, lit a cigarette, and crossed her legs. "You'll get them for me."

Edward fidgeted, ran his hands through his hair. "I'll put together a team and have a plan for your approval by the end of the day."

"I suppose that'll have to do." She waved her hands in a shooing fashion at Edward. "Get to it."

Gathering the paper, Edward stood. "Ma'am." He turned and left quickly.

Rachel stubbed out her cigarette and went to a window that overlooked her compound. Nothing in particular caught her attention, but she smiled. Remembering the TV broadcast and the pictures in the paper made her giddy. The new specimens were just what she needed – boredom had been gnawing at her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Wednesday, 21 September, 1977 : 0655**

"So, is your date book filling up?" TJ asked Dom.

Looking up from the form he was filling out, Dom sighed. "It's been three days since we were on TV and the only calls have been from other cops." He tossed his pen down. "Only two of those were female, but I'm looking into those."

Laughing, Jim said, "I bet you are."

"I'm beginning to believe no one watched us," Dom added.

"They had a good story in the paper, pictures and all," TJ said.

"Oh, sure," said Dom. "In the rappelling shot I was so high up that it could've been anyone. And I'm not even recognizable in that picture of the buddy carry event." Dom rose and walked to the coffee pot. "At least Jim had a good close up on the obstacle course."

"I thought they captured your best side in the buddy carry picture," said TJ.

"Hardy-har-har," Dom said. "Even in the group picture, the Cup covers half my face."

"Only the good half," Jim said. He ducked the pen that Dom flung at him.

Lt. Harrelson rushed out of his office. "We have an auto-alarm at the Bingham Warehouse. Black and whites have the exits covered and report one guard down. It's full of fireworks so they don't want to go in shooting up the place."

The team rushed into the armory, selected their weapons, and ran to the waiting van.

On scene, Harrelson met with the patrol sergeant. "Any action?"

Sgt. Weston shook his head. "Not a peep. No sign of anyone. Ambulance took the guard. He was unconscious, but no bullet holes."

"I hope that's a good sign," Harrelson said. "Anyone know what tripped the alarm? Was it the guard?"

"According to the security company, a door in Zone 12 alarmed." Sgt. Weston pointed to a spot on the plans he had spread out on his car hood.

Harrelson studied the plans. "That's the office area in the center of the warehouse."

"Could be a faulty sensor," Weston said.

"Or kids after some fun fireworks," Harrelson said. "Or some big-time goons looking to create havoc with all that gunpowder."

"I didn't want to send in the street troops and end up creating our own havoc," Weston said.

"Understandable," said Harrelson. "We'll have to be on our toes with this one." He studied the plans a few minutes longer.

"McCabe, Street, Luca – you'll go in high," Harrelson instructed. "Keep your eyes open for any movement below. If you see anything suspicious, call on the radio. Deke and I will come in at your direction. No shooting unless it's absolutely clear of flammables or lives are in imminent danger."

The three officers acknowledged the instructions.

"McCabe, come in here by the north stairway. Luca, this center roof access hatch. Street, the south stairway," said Harrelson. "Work your way down through the access walkways inside. Cover every square inch. Deke will cover the back; I'll be here in front in case you flush them out. Go."

The men ran to their designated areas, disappearing from view.

"Well, I'll be on the other side. Man, this is one huge building," Deke said to Harrelson and jogged off to the rear of the warehouse.

Harrelson stared at the plans and agreed with Deke – it was huge. He wasn't sure what they would find inside, but he knew one thing. He didn't like it. He had a bad feeling about the whole thing. He hoped the feeling was just from the massive amount of gunpowder his men were crawling through – likely for nothing more than a bad alarm sensor or a door someone forgot to secure. On the plans, he mentally placed McCabe, Luca, and Street where he figured they'd be by now.

###

TJ entered the door at the top of the north fire escape stairwell. Luca continued up the ladder behind him to the roof. TJ stepped slowly away from the door to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim interior from the bright, sunny outside. Something fell on him, knocking him to the catwalk floor. It was a net and his rifle, slung on his back for climbing safety, was hopelessly tangled. He started to call out, then yelped at what felt like a bee sting on his thigh. Fear tightened his throat as the dimness, and his awareness, faded.

Dom jogged over the hot roof to the central access hatch. Sweat trickled down his face and back already. He opened the hatch, adjusted the rifle on his back, and stepped down the inside ladder, pausing to close the hatch. Although he couldn't see much, he eased down the ladder until his feet touched the upper catwalk. He turned, holding a ladder rung until he got his bearings. When the heavy net dropped on him, Dom immediately struggled. It felt like a giant spider's web. His rifle fell, clattering its way far below. The sting to his leg dropped him and his struggles slowly ceased.

Jim jogged up the first two flights of stairs on the south fire escape stairway, taking two at a time. Panting, he double-timed it up the remaining steps singly. He stepped inside, knowing that TJ and Dom were likely already stalking. He bent over, placing his hands on his knees to catch his breath and let his eyes adjust. The heavy net hit the middle of his back. Thinking it was a person, he jerked back and tossed it over his head. It slipped over the side of the catwalk. The sting hit him in the shoulder. Reaching back, his hand touched and grasped something; he pulled. Falling forward, he heard a pinging noise cascading down through the girders below the catwalk and thought it was himself.

###

"SWAT-2 in position," Deke said into his radio mike. "All's quiet."

Harrelson's gaze swept across the building. His men would be inside now, working their way along the upper catwalks. He'd like to have an update, but knew they were busy looking for needles in a very explosive haystack.

###

Edward Townsend cursed when the third specimen was brought to him without the net. He didn't have time to worry about it and crated that one like the other specimens. When the assistants returned from the unused entrance points, he supervised as the crates were lowered to the tracks under the warehouse and loaded onto a flat trolley. He followed them down and secured the heavy hatch concealed at the back of the warehouse floor. They pushed the trolley two blocks north to the Browne Warehouse, lifted the crates onto the warehouse floor, and loaded them into the waiting truck. Pulling out behind the police barricade, the truck and its crated cargo drove unnoticed to Rachel's compound.


	3. Chapter 3

**Wednesday, 21 September, 1977 : 0810**

Harrelson waited as long as he could. He needed to relieve the itch of the bad feeling nagging at him. "SWAT Leader to SWAT-3. Status, McCabe."

Silence.

"SWAT Leader to SWAT-4. Luca, status."

Silence.

"SWAT-5. Do you read me, Street?"

Silence.

"SWAT-2 to SWAT Leader. I'm on my way back, Hondo."

Deke reached Sgt. Weston's car at a dead run. Harrelson paced furiously.

"It's a trap, Deke," Harrelson said. "I sent them into a trap."

"They're in there somewhere, Hondo," said Deke. "No one's left the building."

Harrelson stopped pacing. "That's what I'm afraid of."

###

"SWAT Leader, this is Officer Martinez. I found an M16 rifle. I think it belongs to one of your men."

"What's your location, Officer Martinez?" Harrelson asked.

"I was assigned Zone 12. I'm near beam 42-F."

"10-4. I'm on my way. Don't touch anything."

Harrelson reached the F-row of beams at 56 and backtracked to 42, meeting with Officer Martinez.

"I didn't touch anything, Lieutenant," Martinez said. He guarded the spot tightly.

Harrelson softened. "Of course not. Good work, Officer."

Martinez nodded and stepped aside.

Harrelson looked up from where the weapon lay. It was almost directly below where Luca entered the building.

"SWAT Leader to SWAT-2."

"Go ahead, Hondo," said Deke from the upper catwalk.

"Looks like this should be Luca's rifle. Is there anything up there around the central roof hatch?"

"I didn't see any signs of struggle or anything else at McCabe's position. On my way to Luca's position now. Standby." Deke jogged along the catwalk, looking for any signs of the missing men.

"I'm right above you, Hondo," Deke said into the radio. He waved his arms when the men below looked up. "There's nothing here."

"Damn," Harrelson muttered. "Officer Martinez, stay put. The investigation team will need to see this."

"Yes, sir."

"SWAT Leader, this is Sgt. Weston. Found some unusual stuff. Zone 7, near beam 82-P."

"10-4. On my way." Harrelson knew that was Street's area.

"What is that? Cargo netting?" Harrelson asked when he reached Sgt. Weston's position.

"It's heavier than cargo nets I've seen." Sgt. Weston pointed behind the netting. "And that."

The sight of the tranquilizer dart stabbed into Harrelson's gut. He whirled at the approaching footsteps.

"Nothing up there, either," Deke said, pointing to the catwalk where Street would have entered. He looked down at the netting and the dart. "That's not a good sign."

"No, it's not," Harrelson said. "It's better than it could be. But where the hell are they?" He almost couldn't make himself think about someone netting and tranquilizing his men. There was absolutely no sign of McCabe. He had what should be Luca's weapon. And the net and dart below where Street should have been – what did that mean?

"It seems like an awful lot of trouble to go through," Deke said. "Someone wanted them alive."

"Yeah, but for what?"

###

Harrelson and Deke stepped out of the warehouse. The scene out front had changed drastically. The front lot was full of vehicles – a dozen squad cars, the official cars of the investigating detectives, lab vans. When the call went out with three missing officers, everyone came.

"Hondo, what happened?"

Harrelson turned to see the concerned face of Chief Roman. Captain Ward, the SWAT Commander, stood behind him. "It appears we were set up, Chief." Dread settled into Harrelson's stomach. "We found one rifle, some kind of heavy-duty netting, and a used tranquilizer dart."

"Do you think they are still in the building?" Chief Roman asked.

"We watched them go in and no one has come out." Harrelson looked back at the warehouse. "Unless there's an exit we don't know about."

"I've ordered every box and crate opened and inspected," Capt. Ward said. "Everything will be removed from the warehouse. We'll strip it down to its very nuts and bolts. We will find those men."

"Yes, sir," said Harrelson, his face grim. He nodded toward Deke, whose face was also set with solemn determination. "That we guarantee."

###

With the cooperation of the warehouse manager and his full crew, along with every cop they could lay hands on, every box and crate and dust ball in the warehouse had been searched and removed. Even the modular office area had been dismantled and removed. At two in the morning, there was no sign of the three Olympic SWAT officers that had entered the building the morning before.

Lt. Harrelson's footsteps echoed in the vacant warehouse. His body was tired but his mind raced. The only items on the warehouse floor were the taped outlines of Luca's rifle and the items found under Street's entry location.

Meeting Deke and several others in the middle of the empty warehouse, Harrelson unfurled the floor plans. There had to be something there that he was missing. He forced his tired eyes over the plans for the umpteenth time.

When he saw the parallel lines drawn behind the warehouse, it felt like an electric jolt to his weary system.

"Deke," he said, his voice energized. "Did you see any activity on the rail line out back? Any empty cars or anything?"

Pausing in thought, Deke finally responded. "There weren't any tracks back there, Hondo." He stepped up to look at the plans, once again.

"They're on the plans," Hondo insisted, pointing.

"Trains quit coming down here once it got all built up," the warehouse manager said. "City probably took the tracks out some time ago."

"No." Harrelson studied the building, then the plans. "Something's wrong here." He paced to the back wall. "That beam's number is 85. The plans only go to 68."

"Yeah," said the warehouse manager. "The owners expanded the warehouse about seven years ago since the tracks were abandoned. The easement was removed and we could use the extra space. I forgot all about that."

"These are old plans," Deke said. "We need the revised ones."

"We don't have time for that." Harrelson jogged across the flat concrete floor, out the front, and turned, searching the area between the warehouses. With his flashlight shining at his feet, Harrelson stood on a cast iron manhole cover. Even the older plans did not have any sewer or water lines here. He was standing over the old easement area for the rail tracks.

"Deke, get a manhole cover hook," Harrelson called out. "Make it fast!"

After prying off the heavy cover, Harrelson shined his flashlight and two parallel metal rails reflected back at him from about eight feet down. Without hesitation he jumped down, careful to land between the rails. Pulling his pistol, he walked back towards the Bingham Warehouse.

Deke lay on his stomach and watched Harrelson's flashlight beam bounce in the underground tunnel. After a short while, it disappeared. Concerned, he sat up and grabbed his radio mike.

"Hondo, where are you?"

"In the warehouse." Weariness had crept into Harrelson's voice.

###

It didn't take long to run the rails and find the small, flat-topped trolley below the Browne Warehouse. Anger flared through Harrelson as the realization that his men had been whisked away right under his nose, literally. All the time they'd spent scouring through the warehouse had been wasted. His men could be anywhere now.

Dawn neared when Harrelson entered his office. He dropped into his chair and hefted his feet onto his desk. Leaning back, he closed his eyes. Haunting visions danced through his thoughts as he drifted into an exhausted sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Wednesday, 21 September, 1977 : 2235**

Jim Street shifted on the hard floor. His head thumped with every heartbeat, like the worst hangover he'd ever had. Sitting up produced a wave of dizziness that forced him back down.

"Jim?"

"Dom?" Jim's voice croaked in his arid throat.

"Yeah. You okay?"

"Glad you could join us."

"TJ?"

"Yeah."

"Where are we?" It was dark and smelled like a barn was all that Jim's aching head registered.

"Your guess is as good as mine," TJ's voice said from the darkness.

"You okay, Jim?" Dom asked again.

"Debating that." Jim sat up again and managed to stay that way.

"The headache goes away shortly," TJ said.

"How long have you been … awake?" Jim asked.

"I don't know," TJ said, "a little longer than you and Dom."

Jim struggled to his feet and stumbled into a barred barricade.

"I've got four steps by five," TJ said.

"Same here," said Dom.

Jim shuffled around his confined space. "Yeah, me too."

"We just might be in Kansas," Dom said.

"I've heard some noises," TJ said. "Far away. Like animals. No cars or people."

"It smells like a barn," Jim said.

"What are we? The new zoo exhibit?" Anger edged Dom's voice.

"Has there been anyone else around?" Jim asked. "Hondo or Deke?"

"Not that I've seen or heard," TJ said.

"Just us," said Dom.

"My shoulder is sore as hell," Jim said. He rotated his left arm, wincing as the abused shoulder muscles contracted and stretched.

"I have a knot on my leg," Dom said.

"Me, too," TJ said.

"Someone hit me from behind." Jim strained to remember the wispy images. "Right after I stepped inside the warehouse. I threw him over my head. I think he fell off the catwalk. When I first woke up, I thought I'd fallen … but I wouldn't be waking up from that."

"I remember walking into a huge spider's web," Dom said. "Then the damn thing bit me on the leg."

"I walked into the warehouse," said TJ, "then woke up here."

"Someone set up a real good trap for us." Jim sat with his back against the bars.

"But why?" Dom asked.

"I'm afraid we're going to find out soon," TJ said with weariness in his voice.

"You think Hondo and Deke are looking for us?" Dom asked. "Wherever we are …"

"Probably," answered TJ. "Probably not too happy we disappeared, either."

"I doubt he'll blame us too much once they find out what all happened. It was an ambush." Jim pounded his fist on the concrete floor in frustration. He'd been ambushed before and didn't like it any better now.

"Yeah, well, I bet they'll be expecting us to fix this mess we got ambushed into, anyway." Dom rattled the door on his cage, only forcing a couple of solid clangs for his efforts.

"Unless one of us has a hacksaw or jackhammer our pockets, were going to have to wait until we're skinny enough to fit between the bars to get out of here." TJ's angry voice rose and fell as he paced his confined space.

"We'll get out of it," Jim assured his teammates. "We've been trained well – by the best. We'll know it when the opportunity arrives."

"The sooner the better," Dom declared.

"Yeah," TJ agreed, "because this stinks."


	5. Chapter 5

**Thursday, 22 September 1977 : 0638**

Deke entered the depressingly quiet EC Room shortly after dawn opened the new day. The few hours of sleep had been anything but restive. He saw Hondo asleep in his office and made the coffee as quietly as possible.

With his first cup of the day, Deke stared at the map at the front of the room, wondering where their men might be. The phone rang and Deke heard Harrelson answer.

"That was the lead investigator, Matt Dobson." Harrelson poured himself a cup of coffee and joined Deke. "He said the guard had been tranquilized from behind and couldn't help. The two other guards had been called and told not to report for work that morning. They didn't recognize the voice, but the caller had identified himself as being with the management company."

"Matt's a good man," Deke said. "It sounds like an elaborate set up." He continued to stare at the map.

"I'm going upstairs and get a shower. Then we'll look into that management company." Harrelson hurried away.

Deke knew that Matt Dobson would be doing the same thing, but maybe a second set of eyes would help. He called Matt and requested the information he'd dug up on the company, explaining that fresh eyes might see something new or catch a detail that fit the SWAT officers into the picture. He was surprised that Matt agreed and requested that he and Hondo join the investigation team at headquarters.

###

The agonizingly slow pace of the information search and retrieval had Hondo Harrelson prowling the Investigation squad room like a caged animal. So far they had found that Commercial Storage Holdings did manage both the Bingham and Browne warehouses. They had the physical link at the site and now a link at the next level.

Someone had diagrammed the links on a chalkboard at the front of the room. It didn't seem like much, but it was better than the blank board when they'd first arrived.

No one working in the offices at CSH admitted to calling the guards. Phone records for the time period had been requested, via warrant, and a computer somewhere was churning through data. Harrelson was standing by to rush to the CSH office to pick up the printouts.

Although not hungry, Harrelson ate greasy pizza at Deke's insistence. It sat like a rock in his anxious stomach. His seventh cup of coffee didn't sit any better.

As he waited, Harrelson reviewed the printouts of employees of CSH and both warehouses. He read each name carefully, wanting one or more to provide a link to the next level. He wanted more chalk on the board.

Halfway through the employee lists, the call came for the phone reports. Harrelson ran the squad car Code-3, screeching to a halt in front of the CSH offices. The receptionist directed him to the CEO's office. Harrelson regarded the short, balding, and bespectacled man as a typical desk jockey.

Mr. Barney Smith handed Harrelson a large envelope, which he opened and scanned. Satisfied, he turned to leave.

"Mr. Smith, does your company own the warehouses it manages?" The question popped into Harrelson's head and he went with it.

"Certainly not, Lieutenant. Most are owned by wealthy land moguls who don't know anything, nor want to, about how the properties work other than that they make a profit."

"Do you know who owns the Bingham or Browne warehouses?"

"Yes. I have to send balance sheets monthly to the owners' accountants. It's standard procedure."

"I need to know who owns those warehouses."

"I'm afraid I can't give that information out without proper documentation, Lieutenant."

"A warrant." Harrelson's teeth ground as he spoke.

"Of course, Lieutenant."

Harrelson raced the squad car back to HQ, Code-3.

###

Matt Dobson promised Hondo he would have a warrant that covered any and all information that CSH had pertaining to the Bingham and Browne warehouses. In the meantime, Harrelson returned to the employee name lists while Deke and another detective poured over the phone information.

In less time than he'd anticipated, Harrelson and Deke sped back to the CSH offices and collected a box filled with bulging folders and a stack of printouts.

Soon, they'd ferreted out that Richard Bisbane had purchased both warehouses fifteen years prior. He had died ten years ago in a plane crash in the African bush and left the properties to his daughter, Rachel. Rachel had immediately hired CSH to manage the properties and, as far as the investigation could tell, had never set foot in either warehouse. It appeared she was completely hands-off.

Dobson busied himself with collecting information on the warehouse owner's current, active endeavors – an animal preserve. There were a lot of public records when dealing with imported wild animals.

The chalkboard filled as links and interconnections began to build.

Thumbing through Dobson's report on the preserve, Harrelson noticed something familiar. He was sure of it. Taking the report, he went to the desk he'd been using and found the list of CSH employees. Pay dirt. The Security Services Chief at the preserve had the same name as the Security Consultant for CSH. Another connection, another line on the chalkboard.

Using the name link, Dobson easily convinced the judge he had on standby to issue a warrant for the phone records of the preserve. It was a sure bet that if the Security Officers were the same then the call to the guards would've come from the preserve.

The anxious group of investigators ate chicken from a bucket while they waited for the information from the phone company. They did not want to alert the preserve that their records were being collected. Harrelson's instincts told him they were on the right trail. They just had to connect all the dots.

Every available body combed through the pages of numbers. Harrelson had memorized the home numbers of the guards and the number to the warehouse.

About two hours later, Deke hit on one of the warehouse guard's home number. It was made very early on the morning that TJ, Dom, and Jim were kidnapped. Thirty minutes later the call to the other guard was found.

Dobson announced that this was enough of a connection between the preserve and the warehouse to get a search and seizure warrant for the preserve. Sgt. Weston made the link on the chalkboard and drew three tic marks, circling them – connecting the dots to the missing SWAT officers.

The sun dipped below the horizon by the time Harrelson and Deke loaded up with Sunset SWAT and headed for the preserve. A dozen squad cars accompanied them. Ready and relaxed now that it was action time, Harrelson and Lt. Cooper combed over the maps of the preserve. They assigned teams to sweep each of the buildings. His missing officers had to be in one of them.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thursday, 22 September, 1977 : 0622**

Three Olympic SWAT officers watched their surroundings coalesce as dawn brightened. They sat in identical cages in a long, open-sided building filled with more identical cages – all empty except for their three. Ten foot wide aisles separated the cages. The building was surrounded by a grassy expanse with patches of thick forest.

They still wore their blue jump suits, t-shirts, and boots. Gone were the weapons, radio, and vest.

Not long after the world around them lightened, they heard voices nearing. As one they rose to meet what awaited them standing.

Three men came in with trays of food, sliding it through a wide gap at the bottom of each heavily locked door. The men said nothing to the captives, didn't even look at them.

"Hey," Jim called as the tray slid into his cage. "Let us out of here."

"Why are we in here?" Dom asked his food bearer.

TJ reached through his bars, attempting to grab the arm of the man pushing the food tray into his cage, but the man dodged away at the last second. TJ figured whatever he'd been drugged with had slowed his reaction time, allowing the man to escape his grasp.

"What are you going to do with us?" Jim asked as one of the men used a garden hose near his cage to fill three tin pans with water.

"Let us out!" Dom yelled, attempting to shake the cage bars again. They didn't budge.

TJ glared at the man who pushed his water tin close to the cage with his foot, staying out of arm's reach.

"Hey!" Jim called again as the men left.

"Well, that was certainly helpful," Dom said dejectedly. He frowned at the food tray.

"Chatty bunch," TJ added. Shoving the food aside, he gulped down the water.

"Zoo keepers at least look at their animals," Jim said.

The three captives ate the runny scrambled eggs, two hockey-puck sausage patties, and two slices of burnt toast the trays held. Although tasteless, it filled nagging voids.

"Jim, can you reach the hose?" TJ asked.

Jim had been eyeing it. "I don't think so, but I'll try." Thirst was his major concern as well.

Lying down, Jim leaned as much of his shoulder through the bars as he could. His fingers brushed the closest loop of the hose. Gritting his teeth, he jammed his shoulder harder against the bars and got a finger on the hose, inching it into his hand.

Jim gulped greedily from the hose. It wasn't long enough to reach through his cage to Dom, let alone down to TJ, and the pressure wasn't strong. Dom shoved his empty tin over to Jim's cage. Jim pulled it in and filled it. Sliding it back to Dom sloshed out much of the water. Dom carefully pulled the pan around to the door slot and gulped down the remaining water. TJ pushed his empty water pan to Dom, Dom passed it to Jim. By the time it reached TJ, he didn't have much water, but it was better than none. They repeated this procedure until they heard voices again.

The three men arrived again and entered TJ's cage. He started to struggle against the man's grasp and was rewarded with the business end of what appeared to be a cattle prod. The jolt sent TJ to the ground where two of the men attached a metal collar around TJ's neck and ran a chain down his back from it to cuffs around his wrists. There was no escape. Dom and Jim were similarly bound, foregoing the struggle and resulting obviously painful jolt. The third man had a dart gun and a pistol on his hip. The men said nothing and the captive officers finally gave up trying to get them to. TJ appeared more mad than injured from his punishment.

Shortly, they were herded over a hill to a group of buildings and entered one end of a long building. The floor was dirt. The shackled group stopped in a well-lit area midway through the building. Three large circles with concrete barriers about six-inches high were bordered by sagging wooden bleachers. Several people sat, including one woman, looking disinterestedly at the new arrivals.

Three pairs of eyes scanned all there was to see. Two men with real guns and two more with dart guns stood in the shadows. Large windows filled the walls to their left, letting in more light. The bare-raftered ceiling loomed far above their heads.

Each SWAT officer was led into one of the circles and the shackles removed. Immediately, three different men appeared out of the shadows and each stepped into one of the rings. Each opponent was closely matched in build to the officer facing them.

TJ, Dom, and Jim quickly glanced to each other, silently agreeing to dispatch the opponent as quickly as possible and hoping that killing wasn't the only way to win.

Jim's opponent swung with a wild roundhouse which Jim easily dodged. Grabbing his opponent's swinging arm, Jim stepped in and swept the man's feet. Pulling his opponent's arm high up his back, Jim rested his knee against the nape of the man's neck, holding him in check.

Dom's man lunged. Sidestepping, Dom cracked the back of the man's head with a double-fisted, chopping blow, felling the man like a tree. Dom also locked an arm on the man's back and kneed into his neck.

TJ's man circled. With lightning speed, TJ jabbed, dropping the man. TJ wrapped him the same as Jim and Dom had.

The woman stood and clapped.

###

**Thursday, 22 September, 1977 : 0845**

TJ, Dom, and Jim sat at a table with fruit and water while their opponents were removed. They could only guess what would happen to the losers of this warped game. Their legs were shackled to the unmovable table. Any questions they asked or demands they yelled were ignored. The only time the audience paid them any attention was when they battled in the rings.

The woman sat in the bleachers, huddled with several others, writing in a large notebook.

"What kind of three ring circus is this?" Dom asked, his voice low.

"I don't know," Jim said. "But I really don't like performing in this show."

"Me neither," agreed TJ.

"I'd say those windows are our best chance of getting out of here." Jim talked very low and didn't look toward the windows.

"The guards stay away from them," said TJ, "like they aren't supposed to block the light."

"Got a plan?" Dom asked.

"Working on it," Jim said, eating a banana.

"Looks like the woman is the head honcho," TJ whispered.

"Agreed," Jim and Dom said.

"Head honcho of what?" asked Dom.

"I'm not sure I want to know," whispered Jim.

###

A couple of hours later, the guards unshackled the three officers from the table and pushed them back into the rings. Two opponents faced them. The battles waged. TJ had one opponent down and circled with the second. Both of Dom's opponents showed wear, one staggering, barely on his feet. Jim had both opponents down, but struggled with containing them.

With a flurry of fists, TJ's second opponent dropped. Panting, TJ watched as Dom finished off his second man with a drop-kick. Jim had dispatched one opponent by bashing his head against the ring's retaining wall and had the second in a sleeper hold that had the bulging-eyed man slowly sinking to the ground.

There was no standing ovation this time. The woman huddled with her notebook. Furious, Jim stood and turned toward the bleachers. He took one step and a guard stepped up and hit Jim in the side of the head with the butt of his rifle.

The blow dropped Jim. TJ and Dom rushed to him, but the guards blocked them and brought them back to the table, reattaching the leg shackles. Two guards dragged Jim to table and shackled him as well.

"Jesus, Jim," Dom said. "What'd you do that for?"

"I figure they'd expect us to do something like that. They may relax a little now that they've shown us their strength." Jim whispered his response and didn't move, giving the appearance of being more injured than actual.

"We could've voted on who took the lumps," said TJ.

"I'd just thought of it," Jim whispered. "It's Dom's turn next to come up with a bright idea."

Dom splashed water from one of the pitchers on the table over Jim's head.

"Hey," Jim said. He shook the water out of his hair. "What the hell …"

"Are you okay, buddy?" asked Dom, louder. "You were really out."

Jim glared, but nodded. "I'm fine, now."

"I hope they take it easy on us," TJ said. He studied the bruise darkening on Jim's cheek. "That looks like it hurt," he said, quietly.

Jim probed the puffing bruise. "It does."

###

Soon after the second fight, the neck shackles went back on and the SWAT officers were escorted back to their original cages and then left alone.

"We gotta do something," Dom said after the guards had left. "I don't think I want to handle three goons at once."

"I don't either," Jim said.

"This is crazy," said TJ, pacing his cage. "Are we performers in a sick three-ring circus or is it some kind of gladiator game?"

"It's beginning to feel like a combination of both," Jim said.

"Well, I'm tired of it," TJ said.

"Me too," said Dom.

"The windows seem like our best escape route," Jim said.

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking." TJ stopped pacing. "There's woods to hide in not too far from the windows."

"So we take a couple shots at the next group of goons, then make a break for it?" said Dom.

"Target a gunman with an opponent," said Jim. "Get as many of them between us and the guns."

"Then run like hell," TJ added.

"What do you think our odds are?" asked Dom after a quiet stretch.

"I dunno." TJ shrugged and resumed pacing. "Better than continuing playing their way."

"This appears to be our best opportunity," Jim said. "We create some confusion and head for the cover of the trees."

"Can't be any worse than being stuck in these cages," TJ added. "Can it?"

###

**Thursday, 22 September, 1977 : 1910**

After being fed again, the men slept off the remnants of the drugs in their systems. They woke as the guards came again to shackle and hike them back to the playground. The setting sun buoyed the officers' moods as they stepped into the now familiar circles. Darkness would give them better cover to escape.

As expected, three opponents stepped into each circle with the SWAT officers. A larger audience hummed with anticipation of the battle.

Dom had the circle nearest the windows. His opponents staged themselves around him and he did his best to not have them between him and the escape route. He heard Jim and TJ begin their battles. Knowing none of them could hold out long against these odds, he plowed into an opponent and drove him out of the circle and into one of the gunmen. Without hesitation and without looking back, Dom dove through the window head first. With the ground rushing up at him, he tucked and rolled. Hearing two thumps behind him, he turned and grinned. TJ and Jim rolled to a stop at his feet.

Shouts from the windows got the trio up and running for the woods. They heard cracks of gunshots but nothing came close as they weaved and bobbed into the wood line.

Stopping for a moment to catch their breath and assess the situation, they peered back at the building they'd just escaped. With daylight fading fast, it was difficult to tell if they were being pursued. No voices were heard.

"I hope they don't have tracking dogs," Dom said.

"I expected them to come after us in force," Jim said.

"Yeah," said TJ, "what gives?"

A howl sounded in the distance behind them.

"I think we just jumped out of the pan and into the fire," said Dom.

"Oh, great," TJ said.

"We should find a tree to climb into until it's light out," suggested Jim.

Running as fast as the fading light allowed, they stopped often to listen. When darkness and the wild animal sounds converged on them, they selected a large tree to hide in. TJ boosted Dom onto a low branch. Dom reached down and TJ used Dom's grasp to climb onto the branch.

"Jim, come on," TJ called into the dark.

"I'm coming." Jim appeared below the tree. "Here." He lifted up three strong sticks that TJ took, passing them over to Dom on another branch.

Growling froze the men.

Jim turned his back to the tree and just made out the silhouette of a large, dog-like animal – probably a wolf. It likely was not alone, either.

"Jump," TJ yelled, leaning down to catch Jim's arm.

Having no real choice, Jim turned his back on the animal and leaped as high as he could, blindly reaching out. He grasped hard onto TJ's arm and TJ locked on Jim's. As Jim struggled up the tree's trunk with a one-handed grip, the wolf latched onto his left leg. Kicking violently, he struggled to keep his grip on TJ's arm – his lifeline. He heard a yelp and the wolf dropped to the ground. With TJ heaving and Jim scrambling, Jim finally got his right leg around the branch and levered himself up onto it.

Panting and sweating, Jim leaned against the trunk, listening to the growls and scratching below. "Shit."

"You okay?" TJ asked.

"I'm alive. That's all I know for now." Jim closed his eyes, trying to calm his racing heart.

"There's a fork in the tree up here," said Dom. "It's more comfortable and should be easier to defend."

"I'll be up in a minute." TJ turned toward Jim, barely making out anything in the inky blackness. "Did that thing get your leg?"

"Some, I think." Jim flexed his left ankle, feeling sharp pains race up his leg. "Couple of teeth dug in, I think."

"Think you can climb up some?"

"In a minute or ten. The heart attack was worse than the bite."

TJ let out a nervous laugh. "Okay. Here's a stick." He pressed the weapon into Jim's hand. "I'll go up and see how homey it is."

With his heart recovered, Jim started his climb higher up the tree, his ankle protesting sharply. He paused, looking back at the building, still visible in the distance. Lights, in pairs and moving towards them, froze him on the branch.

"What's that?" Jim called out.

"Oh, man," Dom said. "It looks like vehicles. Jeeps or something."

"I don't think we're safe here," said TJ. "We're still too close. We need to go deeper into the woods where their trucks can't go."

"And get eaten on the way?" asked Jim.

"We'll be on the move and those guys are making enough noise to scare away any wildlife."

Watching for a moment, the headlights seemed to be heading straight for them.

"Let's go!" Jim jumped down, favoring his bitten leg.

Together, they ran deeper into the woods. Jim used his stick as a cane, biting his lip as he struggled to keep pace. A three-quarter moon rose, giving a ghostly view through the woods. It helped them, but also made them more visible to their pursuers.

After running for some time with no sightings of pursuit, they came to a steep rise. Close to the top, a dark spot in the face of the hill indicated a cave or some kind of hiding place, hopefully. Climbing carefully up the steep rocky incline, they did discover a small, dry cave. The opening was narrow, but it widened out into a decent sized den. Luckily, no other animals seemed to be occupants at the moment. It also gave a good view of the surrounding area. The vehicle lights could be seen canvasing the edges of the open area, shining bright spotlights into the woods. The cave was far into the woods and well beyond the search lights.

Jim collected branches from bushes and trees around the cave and dropped them onto the earthen floor. Falling to the floor himself, he loosened his boot on his injured ankle, pulling it off. He closed his eyes against the flood of pain as circulation returned to his foot. He'd never get the boot back on.

"We can't make a fire. They'd see it," Dom said.

"It's not for a fire." Shoving his boot aside, Jim laid the branches in a hatch pattern and began weaving them. Having something to do kept his mind off his painful ankle. "It's a gate for the opening. Just because there isn't an animal in here now doesn't mean there won't be one looking for it."

TJ and Dom assisted with the weaving.

"How do we keep it in place?" asked TJ.

Setting the 'gate' in front of the opening, Jim sat down and braced his right foot against the left edge, his back against the rear wall. TJ did the same with the right side.

They watched through the woven gate as the vehicles circled to the far side of the opening and scanned those woods. The cave was quiet.

The first hint of noise outside the cave was so light it almost wasn't heard. TJ patted Jim's shoulder. The moon sat behind the hill now so the cave was pitch-black.

The fury at the cave opening pierced the quiet. The big cat's scream made the men's blood run cold. Batting at the man-made barrier, the cat nearly succeeded in dislodging the upper edge on TJ's side. Reaching up to secure their protection, the claws lashed out and swiped across TJ's forearm.

Dom took his stick-weapon and pounded against the gate. A yelp let him know he'd made contact and soon the cat slunk away as quietly as it had appeared.

"TJ, did he get you?" Dom asked.

"Just a scratch," said TJ.

"Yeah, right," Dom said. "Let me see."

"See what?" asked Jim in the blackness.

"See with my fingers. See if there's blood," Dom said.

Dom pressed around TJ's arm, feeling the sticky wetness of blood. Quickly, Dom pulled his jumpsuit off his shoulders and pulled off his t-shirt. Blindly, he ripped the shirt into strips and wrapped them around TJ's arm, tying the knots snugly over the weeping wound.

"Thanks," TJ said.

"I hope that's all the visitors we get," Jim said. His left ankle throbbed and now TJ was injured too.

The cave settled into anxious quiet once again.

###

"What the …" Dom said.

Alerted from his light doze, Jim realized quickly that there was a problem. They weren't alone in the cave.

Struggling, Dom lost the ability to talk – to breathe, even.

TJ and Jim felt the coils tightening around Dom. A huge constricting snake must have been hiding in a back recess of the cave and now had a deadly grip on Dom.

Tracing the coils, Jim found the head – nearly taking a strike to his shoulder. Keeping a strangling grip behind the snake's head, he and TJ began unwinding it from Dom's mid-section. After two coils released, they heard a gasping inhale from Dom. Relieved, they worked on the remaining coils. With arms full of snake, they eased out of the cave and pitched the reptile down the steep hill face.

Returning, they found Dom panting on the cave floor.

"You okay, Dom?" asked TJ.

"I think … it cracked … a couple … ribs," Dom said, wheezing.

"You think you can climb out of here?" asked Jim. "It'll probably come back."

"Yeah," Dom said. "Just give me a minute or ten."

"If we continue up, we can use the high ground to keep a lookout," TJ said.

"What if we circle back," said Jim. "We'd get back to the buildings about dawn."

"The vehicles!" TJ said, catching on.

"We should be able to push start one and ride out of here," said Jim.

"I like that idea," agreed Dom.

###

With TJ in the lead, Dom in the middle, and Jim at the rear, they crawled the short distance to the hilltop. With a stop to catch their breath, they turned back toward the buildings. Lights were still on in the buildings to show them the way.

The going was slow. Jim's limp intensified. TJ had to keep his arm at his chest to reduce blood seepage. Dom wheezed along with his sore ribs.

Hearing loud splashes at a pond, they skirted wide, taking extra time.

Several times they heard rustling in the woods around them, and were grateful when nothing popped out of the darkness to hassle them. This time they moved through the dark wilderness with a mission, they projected alpha status. They were no longer running away, hiding.

With the building still at least a half-mile away, Jim collapsed, his right leg cramping.

"You guys go ahead," Jim gasped. "Come back for me when you're safe."

"That's crazy," Dom said, bent over to ease his sore ribs. "We can't leave you here."

They rested a few minutes, staring at the building – so close, yet so far away.

"I'm the Buddy Carry Champion," TJ said, "I'll carry you."

"You can't carry me. Your arm." Jim struggled to get up, but his legs gave out. "Damn it!"

"It's either that or we all stay here," TJ countered.

"You know Hondo will find us," added Dom. "Eventually."

"We got to get to those vehicles. We've gotta do it," Jim said through clenched teeth.

"You'll have to hold on tight," TJ instructed, "I don't want to drop you."

Dom helped Jim get draped across TJ's shoulders as much as he could. TJ rose carefully and the trio started out again.

TJ struggled along slowly. Of course the biggest of them had to be the one needing carried. It had been a lot easier carrying Dom in the race.

As the east sky lightened to gray, the men collapsed next to a topless, zebra-striped Jeep parked behind the building they had escaped from about twelve hours ago. Dom gingerly slipped into the driver's seat, released the parking brake, and shifted into neutral. With a gasp of pain, Jim dropped into the back.

Grunting with effort, TJ shouldered into the vehicle, pushing it slowly over the gravel lot. Dom popped the clutch and the engine turned over, sputtered, then caught and ran. TJ hopped in the passenger seat and Dom roared around the building.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thursday, 22 September, 1977 : 1944**

"What do you mean they escaped?" Harrelson shouted at the woman, Rachel Bisbane. A blue SWAT hat had been found in a cage in one of the outer buildings, so he knew the men were here.

"See that broken window?" Rachel pointed behind her. "We had them in the rings, ready to battle." She grinned at Harrelson. "They were impressive, Lieutenant."

"Tell me where they are." Harrelson's patience was beyond used up and this idiot woman was pushing his limits.

"They must have planned their escape," Rachel continued. "One broke through the window and the other two followed. They were fast – ran off into the woods." She grinned again. "Of course, the woods are much more dangerous than being in here."

"What do you mean?" asked Harrelson. "Dangerous how?"

"Out there," Rachel waved her hand widely, encompassing the whole expanse of the preserve. "That's the domain of our animals. Wild animals imported from Africa and Central America." She smiled. "It'll be interesting to study how they get along with the other animals."

Harrelson walked over to the broken window, looked out into the darkness. He couldn't believe his men had escaped less than an hour before he'd gotten here and had run into the jaws of unknown dangers.

He whirled back to face Rachel. "They'll be fine, Ms. Bisbane." He turned back to the windows. "What'll really be interesting is how you and the others get along behind bars."

"Lieutenant," Sgt. Weston said from behind Harrelson. "There's a fleet of Jeeps out back. We could look for them."

"Yes." Harrelson nodded. "Let's load up." He pointed at the woman and her Security Chief. "Keep them here. We may need more information. Keep searching the grounds, too."

###

Harrelson drove a leopard spotted Jeep and Deke manned a powerful spotlight. Two officers with rifles stood in the back, holding on to the roll bar. He drove slowly around the edge of the woods, eyes straining for any hint of his men. Many times eyes shined back at them as the bright beam lanced into the woods, but none were human.

They returned to the preserve's compound shortly after midnight. They'd combed every inch of the woods that the vehicles could reach. It was too vast to wander by foot at night trying to find three people that didn't want to be found. Harrelson called for a helicopter to arrive at dawn so they could search by air. Seeing the police helicopter would be a sign to his men that help was here – that he was here. Maybe they would light a signal fire or something to alert the helicopter.

Harrelson, Deke, and Lt. Cooper went over the maps, plotting search grids so they could start a first light. They would have a refueling truck here to keep the copter in the air as much as possible. They would fan out from the known escape point, crisscrossing that area multiple times before spreading out to the less viable areas.


	8. Chapter 8

**Friday, 23 September, 1977 : 0612**

Harrelson hated waiting. He sipped coffee as the sky began to lighten faintly. Knowing the copter would be arriving soon, he stepped outside. Off-duty cops were arriving in their personal vehicles to assist with the foot search. The brotherhood was strong and when word got out about what had happened out here, volunteers had come streaming in.

The people responsible were in custody with legally seized documentation – including the plans for the kidnapping at the warehouse. They would be put away for a long time. And he would soon have his men back. He could feel it.

A commotion at the south end of the building caught Harrelson's attention. It was barely light enough to see. He ran, dropping his coffee cup and drawing his pistol.

###

Dom skidded in the gravel rounding the end of the building. He expected to avoid gunmen, so he had the pedal to the floor and slouched down in the seat. TJ and Jim hung on for their lives.

The large, blue SWAT van was the last obstacle Dom expected to see. He cut the wheel sharply to avoid t-boning the van. The top-heavy, short wheel-based Jeep tipped over on its side and skidded to a stop, inches from the van, in a cloud of choking dust.

"Freeze!" a uniform cop shouted, covering the vehicle's scattered occupants.

"We're cops!" yelled Dom, wincing from his aching ribs.

"Olympic SWAT," TJ said, raising his arms, one bearing a tattered, bloody bandage.

Jim moaned and rolled over, hands over his head.

Harrelson ran past the overturned Jeep and couldn't believe his eyes.

Jim struggled to his feet with Harrelson's help, holding his bootless left foot off the ground.

Blinking, Jim recognized his commander. "Lieutenant," he said, straightening, "reporting for duty." He didn't know what else to say.

TJ helped Dom up and stood next to Jim. The three men looked around through the clearing dust at the crowd of uniform and off-duty cops. They were speechless.

"It's about time you three got back to work," Harrelson said. His voice wasn't as strong as he'd prefer. His battered and bleeding men were certainly a sight for sore eyes. He looked at the overturned Jeep. "You certainly know how to make an entrance."

Harrelson had a hundred questions, but he needed to get these men to a hospital. He saw that they were a bit worse for wear. Once he got them settled he knew the stories would pour forth. There would be the official report and then there would be the tall tales. He wanted to hear them all.

The helicopter landed and Harrelson commandeered it for transportation, getting his men to the hospital as fast as possible. He gotten them cups of water, the only thing they'd asked for. Then he and Deke loaded them up and they all flew to Valley Hospital.

###

Rested himself, Harrelson entered Valley Hospital smiling. He'd heard most of the stories by now, two days after the rescue. The stories were chilling, but were so unbelievable it made them amusing – Street's leg chewed on by a wolf – with a nasty infection that had started, McCabe getting slashed by a predator cat – narrowly missing vital tendons, and Luca nearly being crushed by a constrictor – cracking two ribs. Much less amusing was their report on the battles in the rings. He couldn't help being proud that they had held their own against two opponents and knew they had no choice but to escape when facing three – even though rescue arrived about forty minutes after they jumped out the window. That fact still burned in his gut.

He came to Street's room first. It was empty. Luca's room was also empty. Surprisingly, McCabe's room was empty, too. Hearing laughter, he followed the sound to a small waiting room down the hall. Inside, his officers sat around a table with coffee and cookies. He'd figured they'd had about as much of each other's company as they could stand after their recent adventures.

Street's girlfriend sat with him, McCabe's fiancé, Susan, sat with him, and Luca had a lovely young lady sitting on each side.

Clearing his throat, Harrelson entered.

"Hey, Lieutenant," said Jim. "You remember Sheri." The young woman stood and greeted him.

"Yes," Harrelson said. "Hello." He turned to Susan, greeted her.

"Uh, sir," said Dom. "This is Amy and Lisa. They're nurses and have been taking very good care of me."

"I'll bet," Harrelson mumbled, then greeted them, "Ladies."

"Were getting released today," said Jim.

"That's good to hear. You're all looking better." Harrelson sat across the table from them.

"We'll be back on duty in no time, Lieutenant," Dom said. His ladies giggled.

"I did get your survival training pushed back. We want you all to be fully healed before tackling that." Harrelson grinned at their suddenly grim faces. He'd wait to tell them they had to pass a psych exam as well as physical.

"Uh, doesn't what we just went through qualify as survival training?" asked TJ.

"Yeah," Dom said, "we survived wild animals and everything."

"No, gentlemen. SWAT survival training is specifically designed and graded to highlight the specific traits required for maintaining peak performance. Your trip in the woods playing with animals might be good practice, but it's no substitute for the real thing." Harrelson held his straight face with much difficulty.

"Playing with animals …" Dom sputtered.

Jim and TJ were already laughing. Once Harrelson joined them, Dom also laughed.

"As long as there's no cameras or reporters at the training," said Dom. "I'm done with publicity. Too many crazies out there."

"Now that's the wisest thing I've heard in a while," Harrelson said.


End file.
